


hopeless

by netya



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship, essentially just jean thinking they're dumb, eventually part of a larger series, marlowe doesn't have pov wonder what he's thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 05:47:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13874451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/netya/pseuds/netya
Summary: In the three years he’s known them, they’ve grown from acquaintances with mild animosity to developing the sort of sickeningly mutual pining that can only exist when each party is equally blind -  which is coincidentally how they’ve progressed to sitting in their current, mildly embarrassing predicament, of which Jean is simultaneously partially responsible and third-wheeling.





	hopeless

If there’s one thing Jean knows about his friends, it’s that there’s not a lot Marlowe wouldn’t do for Hitch, and there’s absolutely nothing Hitch won’t do for Marlowe. In the three years he’s known them, they’ve grown from acquaintances with mild animosity to developing the sort of sickeningly mutual pining that can only exist when each party is equally blind - which is coincidentally how they’ve progressed to sitting in their current, mildly embarrassing predicament, of which Jean is simultaneously partially responsible and third-wheeling. 

They’re sitting in a booth at their favorite café, named so because of its precise location halfway between Marlowe and Jean’s frat (Kappa – Pi - Delta, consisting of Reiner Braun, his boyfriend Bertholdt, Connie Springer, approximately one rush named Boris and more often than not Hitch herself), and their university, and thereby extremely convenient proximity. Hitch, failing as usual to coerce Marlowe into paying for her, is playing with her spoon and sighing every minute or so, slouching in her pretty wool dress. Jean regrets engaging Marlowe in conversation after class – if he hadn’t, then Hitch and Marlowe would’ve been on their very way to this café, alone, which Jean has already been yelled at for via text. Apparently this was for Hitch tantamount to a first date; not that she’s naïve enough to truly call it one, but Jean easily concedes that Marlowe’s complete and utter obliviousness makes it difficult to get him alone when his instinct is to invite anyone else he might come into contact with (see: Jean himself). 

Marlowe is fully engrossed in debating the merits of – what were they talking about again? Honestly, Jean barely remembers at this point, receiving enough sullen glares from Hitch to sufficiently distract him, and he eagerly breaks social protocol and picks up his phone when it begins blaring an 8-bit version of Taylor Swift. “Hello?”

Hitch huffs, blowing an errant strand of ash-blonde hair from her nose, brushing it behind her ear and taking the opportunity to steal Marlowe’s attention back for herself. It isn’t that she’s angry with him – obviously not, she might be a self-proclaimed rich bitch but not to such an extent – but she is a little annoyed, and embarrassed, that Marlowe immediately forwent the grace of her company and talked to Jean instead. “So, Marlowe! Do you have any thoughts about class today?” 

Marlowe turns to her, tilting his head while Jean answers his phone. “Class? I dunno. I thought the film was interesting, but the social implications especially in this day and age are problematic.”

The class they’d come from – and coincidentally the only class Jean had with them, because of course it was – was Film Studies 325, and was centered around watching and critiquing films from various eras. Jean and Marlowe were taking it as a requirement for their arts degrees, but Hitch, as an undeclared undergrad, was simply taking it for fun. This week’s film had been _Chungking Express_ , a Hong Kong film featuring a young service worker who consistently breaks into the apartment of the police officer who frequents her snack booth, in order to cheer him up. Marlowe, as always, considered the moral implications first rather than the cinematic value or suspension of disbelief required to _enjoy_ said film. 

One of the many things Hitch adores, simply because it’s Marlowe. If it were anyone else, she’d consider it an irritating habit. 

She’s distracted from replying as Jean suddenly stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder and pushing his chair in. Marco Bodt’s voice floats through the speaker, nervous and apologetic, as befits his role of campus sweetheart. “Jean, it’s pouring, and I don’t have an umbrella – normally I’d enjoy the walk but with my papers –“ 

Jean cuts him off, happy for both an excuse to get away from the hopeless mating ritual he’s interrupted and to help his boyfriend, to whom he is wholly and completely devoted. “I’ll come grab you in the car,” he starts for the door, then doubles back for a quick word with the barista. 

“Really? Oh, Jean, thank you –“ 

Jean nods, pulling out some change. “See you in a sec, babe.” He hangs up, peering out the window. “Jesus, it really is pouring out there,” he mutters, pulling up his hoodie, all thoughts of Marlowe and Hitch wiped from his mind; he’s single-handedly focused on picking up and, hopefully, warming up his waiting boyfriend. The barista gestures at him and Jean nods, accepting the steaming cup and murmuring a quick thanks, remembering to toss a wave over his shoulder at an extremely bemused Marlowe and begruding Hitch on his way out.

“What’d he order?” Marlowe asks, frowning, turning to Hitch, who’s waving with just her fingers in that pseudo-genuine-rich-girl way she has. “I didn’t see him pay.”  


Hitch sighs, watching the bell swing above the café door as it shuts. “Hot chocolate, I’ll bet, it’s Marco’s go-to. With the cold, I’m sure it’ll help him warm up…” She gazes out the window, following Jean’s already-soaked frame cross the street and wrench open the door to his beat-down silver Honda, windows fogging as he blasts the heat and drives off to pick up his equally sodden boyfriend from the corner. “If only someone would treat me like that someday…” 

Someone like Marlowe, maybe. Of course, that’s likely to never happen, but it’s something to dream about – something Hitch dreams of often, in fact, and has ever since they met freshman year. Occasionally she thinks he might just _possibly_ return her affections – but just when that happens, he’ll do something like today, and invite Jean along on a not-date. 

“I’d do that for you.” 

“Wh-what?” Marlowe’s voice interrupts her thoughts. 

“I’d do that for you,” he shrugs nonchalantly, reaching for his mocha. “If you needed a ride and were soaking on a street corner, of course I would.”

Hitch can’t speak – her mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out. Marlowe would – would do – would drop everything he’s doing and _go_ to her? Doesn’t – doesn’t he see what that means? He’s literally comparing them to _Jean and Marco_ , those two have been engaged since they were in the womb- “That’s – I’ll keep that in mind, sweetie,” she reels, falling back on her long-since familiar habit of doling pet-names. “Thank you!” This – okay, so maybe he sounds more like the only time he would pick her up is if she was freezing on a street corner, but still it’s – it’s progress - 

Marlowe nods, and continues sipping his mocha. Hitch stares at her half-finished latte in stunned silence.

...Maybe there’s hope for them yet.


End file.
